Best Minimizing Poems
~ JOURNEY to the center of me!~
Yield upon this blissful moment!
In, a cutting-edge welcoming,
This minute can only maintain-
Yesterday’s journey~ Desire~
The world inside my head, can think,
Deeper than a dream;
Up till now, anticipation has hovered my present thoughts
Day becomes night,
Night becomes day,
In a cave, I call my insanity.
Hallucination, raveling inside my head,
I sit where my thoughts entwine with my elusive slumber.
Everything inside of me is lucid and lost in madness.
I perceive the proper perception;
to think is only a thought.
Today’s journey~ Sensation~
Barren thoughts never exit the aggression in my mind.
I stand among the crying thunder locked within my head.
Of sweet flower they arise and bloom, above all shores,
I embrace the beauty of my deepest emotion.
Sands of time litter within my walls!
My thoughts sit and wait!
Minimizing themselves down to a speckled dot.
They are a few, sweet and creepy,
Those grab my attention,
Tomorrow’s journey~ Pleasure~
Passion wilting upon yesterday’s memory.
Concentrating and unraveling every single knot.
And, still I go back and give that one look.
A hot steamy want, judged by my brainwaves.
Notions, follow a path and indulge with no escape.
Danger escapades into a naughty reflection, "I am my own diversion!"
My thoughts are thoughtless as they can be.
Brittle and little like you and me!
Still my journey continues to emerge with all the thoughts found in the center of me.
Everyday's journey~ Begins with………Determination……
by;pd
written on time’s page
with finite syllables of dust
he spelled my heritage
from earth to sky
along an umbilical line of faith
we fluttered from the lips of fingers
fully form for purpose
written on an invisible calculus
that bring monarchs where birth mark lingers
and salmons somersaulting sluice and streams
turtles, penguins, and herons white wings
netted in design with nested tabula rasa mind
I have an argument
against the beginning begotten from a bang
before atom or element
I have an argument against force and natural laws
at work without mass or embodiment
for embryonic gravity or forces weak or strong
I have an argument
that the singularity could not become more than fragment
of energy again if a single atom explode
its forces flocking away from fusion
for energy fission to explode
a theory
flimsy as spiders web
dethroning my majesty gulped
in primeval slime unlinked history from love
minimizing the particular time of our becoming on ships
that met the stagnant eyes of swampy thoughts … shuddering
in vain
the whip cracks louder than pain -
and on our black blistered backs … crumbling
soils in desertification threw some syllables skywards for mercy
starvation winds with sickle clouds of rain
they lie again ... leaving us without inheritance
for all our labors, lost, and grievance
what bang can buck the strain
and bring us broken souls to glory again?
My Emancipation
The convoluted misconceptions concocted in your chaotic mind
Will no longer deaden, dim, nor darken the light that I shine
Constantly minimizing and compromising, the extent of my plight
I’m stepping out of your dark shadow; I’m stepping into the light
Hiding behind these disguises, I’ve forgotten my reflection
Brushing phony smiles, over the hidden frowns,
Just to camouflage the rejection
Your bad intent is surpassed only by your insecurities and ignorance
I will no longer recite from your ridiculous script
I’ve been concealed behind this mask that you painted for far too long
Continually reading your words, and singing your songs
I’ve followed your painful paths and I have walked far enough
You’ve shown me your hand, and now I’m calling your bluff.
Unleash, unchain, and unshackle me
I am reclaiming my life, I demand to be free.
"Laid Upon Their Alters"
qhapaq hucha
it begins at birth
the most precious
resource of all
we are registered,
audited, one by one
under the rod measured
by lizard rule
the capacocha
children of complacency
dumbed down, some
thorns, uppity, removed
heads counted
to be held high
as trophies, those played
and won
for the greater good
oh yes,
we belong;
we belong,
we’ve always belonged,
to the ruling class
sapa inca
orders sacrifice, daily
all are held up to the Sun
of the others’ huacas,
accountable,
we are ears of corn
sheared and scattered
kurnels sown to replenish
a new world
fresh crops
laid upon
their oily alters
falls the empires
one by one
like conquistadors
they dissolve us
holy sees parted
red and bleeding
we are all children
well drugged
foreplay for prophecies
all war rooms
cleanly wiped
disinfected, by fire
baptised deja vu
submerged
together
we are something else
to behold
realm of the four parts
these final moments
matter
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“With their royalty and focus of worship destroyed,
the general population readily accepted Spanish rule
as “what was done.” This created local assistance which,
along with outside factors, allowed the Spanish
to completely conquer the region by 1572,
marking the end of the Inca Empire.“
“This pattern of manipulating a people’s concept
of ideological power, in conjunction with
relational and material power,
is seen throughout history
and is often a large component
of the fall of great empires.”
"That’s why the banalities matter.
When the real issues come up, healthy states,
the ones capable of handling and minimizing
everyday dysfunction, have a great deal more capacity
to respond than those happily waltzing toward their end.
But by the time the obvious, glaring crisis arrives
and the true scale of the problem becomes clear, it’s far too late.
The disaster—a major crisis of political legitimacy, a pandemic,
a climate catastrophe—doesn’t so much break the system
as show just how broken the system already was."
Time of the times
Tiling for the time, building on the line
Edifying road, path intersection of your life
Minimizing for the fight, pacifying on the ground
Exploring rope, mild intervention in the sound
Time of the time, learning from your past
Time of the future, presenting your lust
Time of the moment, coloring your trust
Time of the unknown, understanding your vice
Playing on the path, regulating to the sight
Safe game, temple flesh, collecting your breath
Mockery of the blessing, bush burning cracking
Slaughters of the lamb, bomb-exploding facing
Time of the time, gaming with the mice
Time of the future, spacing for the lost
Time of the moment, talking of the wise
Time of the unknown, watering from the rock
Timing of the till, designing through the gap
Speaking on the hope, judging from the place
Walking all day long, thinking on the step
Dreaming on the floor, meditating on the grace
Writing for the soul, singing to the land
Time of the time, on the melody of your life
Time of the future, on the soliloquy of your mind
Time of the moment, on the symphony of your art
Time of the unknown, on the cacophony of your march
isaac-
We all hear about the habits of successful people,
My habits are not the same.
Successful people, whatever that means,
Their habits seem kind of tame.
I don’t read a lot, nor organize my year,
Nor ever get up bright and chirpy.
I enjoy writing my thoughts, living spontaneously,
Then waking up feeling blurry.
I dance in elevators, touch hot plates,
And practice arguments in my head.
And rather than minimizing distractions,
I live with color and music instead.
And when I’m on the phone I don’t sit
And pronounce with perfect allocution.
I walk the house laughing, joking and swearing-
It’s a trusted institution.
I would like to eat healthy, drink water, walk heaps,
And regularly go and press weights.
But I love my kebabs after a night at the pub,
Dancing, drinking and singing with mates.
Actually, the other day, I went for a run, through the rain,
In the car park, to my car.
It was a fun little run; I dodged bullets and missiles,
Pretending I was a big movie star.
Well, thinking about it, my habits are successful,
Other people’s just don’t match mine.
To me it’s about being happy, open and free, it was easy,
“Success” I would redefine.
Corners brightened by Christmas' lights dispel ugly grins
Halls of the big house are adorned with true artistic craft
Revere for His birth is heard in those sumptuous hymns
Inside walls display beautiful ornaments of red velvet
Spiritual songs declare the glory descending on Earth
Tempo and beat swiftly increase, then decrease at times
Myriads of shoppers roam streets with foaming breath
Above the cold sky echoes with carols of perfect rhymes
Surrendering the observers feel a faith they had never had
Minimizing his discomfort, the sad haggard whistles a choon
Urgent is the need of the orphan, a gift makes him very glad
Surging from the dark ocean, stars reveals the splendid moon
Imminent is the attraction it draws from cold faces in a rush
Consuming their delight with brisk smiles while noises hush.
Entered in Andrea Dietrich's contest,
" Something New: A Christmas Sonnet- Acrostic
My pick: Christmas Music
Written on 12/20/2015
The day United Ways
slurp some Reality Stew
we will change this name
to The Same Ol' Competition Way;
cheering for ever-more community support
with the same constituency
we are teaching to over-power each other
for both community support and service.
Our United Way systemically grows
a Divided Fail.
The day our Philanthropic Foundation
absorbs some multiculturing fertility,
we will learn to ask whose foundation is this really?
Are we a Foundation of inclusive cooperation?
A Foundation with Golden Rule
applied to all species living now
and in our global future,
incarnating through our Elder species
for mutually optimizing regenerative purpose?
Are we a Philanthropic Foundation
created by people
who deeply cared about sustaining life's integrity
for seven generations?
Perhaps even more?
Are we more a Foundation of confusing mobbed competition
for scarce resources,
or a Foundation for regenerating abundant contentment,
goodness,
beauty,
wisdom,
optimized economic policies for cooperative
ecological health and well-being networks;
for minimizing suffering and exploitive commodification,
economic decomposition of Earth's natural elements and systems;
a pro-life Commons
racing to win diverse harmonies
before losing our dreams
of teleological faith
and ecological hope?
Could we become a Foundation for optimizing public policies
for mutually cooperative mentoring
of vocational choice,
of permaculturally,
organically,
integrally,
multisystemically functional, maybe even deeply creative, families
and thereby communities?
We stand within this permacultural Foundation
for cooperative mutual-investment guilds,
consumer and producer networks,
Climax Communities
for growing global consciousness of eco-balance identity,
Earth Care as Self and Other Care,
revolutioning this ReGenesis Foundation,
with both interior and exterior landscape applications,
both YinTime and YangSpace eco-function metrics,
mutually mentoring Earth's polyculturally cooperative eco-logic.
pandemic morpho toxicity
the sludge squeeze from
the geysers of torture and rape
one after another
life feeds on life
the pilfering of our peoples
the siphoning of our souls
milling upon the millions
minions minimizing our emotions
someone wants to own it all
but does not respect the privilege
gather around the fire
the heat keeps us through the night
i cry for a thousand years
for those ive never heard of
dont deny this places conditioning
my dry eyes can feel relief
harden like the walls of our egos
i insulate and isolate
treading in the quicksand of my own fears
change is inevitable, so become
i once was young
power an elusion shrouded
by the characters who drive
their own machines to bitter end
i forgive you
trust is another matter
FATHER
Misleading intentional deception,
loathing the complexity of risk and uncertainty.
Thoughts of contingent outcomes, minimizing losses,
analytical human behaviour.
The Army Ruler demands respect, obedience,
forgets the hurtful unconsidered words.
Tradition, history, status, all weigh heavily,
turdus merula cries in the storm.
Obstructively determined to prevail,
threats and ultimatums are heavy handed.
He can hear, but refuses to listen,
the heart is cold and concrete.
Sterling coins cannot buy love, obedience,
he creates his own demise.
Whispers in the wind are chosen words,
a child is gone forever.
Injuries are in the state of calamities around the world.
How do injured people survived in this situation?
In the condition of implication, how do they manage in life?
The Lord knows how to rescue people from their trials,
In their deepest painful struggles, they suffered
Injuries for the rest of their lives.
The corrupt society, to their position, they are
Trained to be greedy, lead weak injured person
Into a trap, their hearts are trained to be greedy.
They use their position and power out of untrue statement.
Their put aside the basic principles of being
Considerate to the workers, who are loyal
To their work being an employee.
Strategies and techniques, procedures and plannings
Are supposed to be maintained in order to prevent these happening.
Human powers are one of the powerful tools to minimizing this problem.
Giving encouragement for the people to work, giving them inspiration
And obligation towards their goal in life.
Caring to workers is one of the fundamental responsibilities of employers,
Stimulating the harmony between the employees and
Employers in business, uniting in one goal
And at the same time prioritising the health of their workers.
In God presence, my deepest prayers is this,
Lead us into temptation of this world, In Jesus name, Amen.
Money and power, possession and position will someday
Defeated by the truth. God is God; he owns and rules the world,
All belongs to him. God has reserved a place for the weak and lowly.
© Jocelyn Dunbar
3 June 2017
1:45 AM
Cotton Bootie Enlistment
by Odin Roark
How innocent the booties of birth
If only their cast remembrance
Might remain but nostalgia
Instead
Their bronze symbolism
Merely encases a once simple smile
A semblance of purity
Lost ever so soon
History
Like a voracious virus
Infects this childlike innocence
Creates its own immunity
Thrusting virulent audacity
Minimizing one’s virtuous cotton footwear
Naively seeking only durability
A faux synthetic
Or tanned leather
Yet
The species remains bent to create
The next test-tube imperviousness
Minimizing rugged soles of
Arabian oil based rubber
But yesterday’s chapter
High tech miracles
Deliver
Gripping
Climbing
Running
Advancing
Attacking
Conquering
Foot cover impervious
Yet never forgetting such simple beginnings
Ultimately
The acrid smoke
Merging into our heated global atmosphere
Further heats subjugation's resolve
Only the last chapter of earth’s historical tome remains
Postlude
The vortex of history’s repeated resting places
Where roadside bombs facilitate
Body bags of findable parts
Where calloused bare feet of refugees fleeing
Know only purity never lost
Even Salvation Army’s handout footwear
Good for the tucked fetal position
Beneath homeless cardboard shelters
Remembers the booties of birth
Somewhere along the line
Leaden boots seemingly rendering freedom
Remain beholden to the heel and toe of control
Where dominance patiently waits
Try as we may
Weighty footprints
Foretell the future
From birth to death
Their ponderous reality
Remains often guised
But forever remaining
The ever threatening
Leaden boots of tomorrow’s
Cotton bootie enlistment
Communications among organic creations
of sacred EarthMother
are overwhelmingly rooted
in nonverbal
nonviolent communion
Complex evidence of things
within relationships of feeling
and touch,
creatures seen
and heard,
recreations smelled
and tasted,
cognitive awareness of purpose
and intuitive integrity for meaning
sacred smooth full-wombed
woked mindedness
We are, together,
at our best,
on and in and for and of
Earth's rest
in solidarity play day,
compassionate communion
of verbal humane purposes
and nonverbal divine meaning
unspoken yet repurposing
Compassion's enchanting communion
turns movement into dance,
reincarnates muses into instruments
of recreative music,
covers ecofeminist songs
of indigenous wisdom,
evokes birdsong joy
and pensive grey choired mourning,
shushes ebbing and
sloshes inhaling surf,
murmurs in babbling brooks,
capital infested crooks
speaking suffering sibilant servants.
Nonverbal communion
does not bring roaring evidence
for falsely claimed wealth risks
against universal democratic health.
Sacred integrity
proposes a good faith alternative
to zero-sum
win-lose competitive
compromised organic trust.
Earth's meaningful
richly resonant
robustly resilient Tribes
nonverbally know,
regeneratively believe,
feel with redundant cultural integrity
Our univocally global economic need
to advance ecologically healthy opportunity
While minimizing unwealthy
unwise partisan disempowering risks
to this profoundly communing
politically living
regenerative planet
for verbal and nonverbal persons,
quieter peaceful plants,
and all sentient incorporations
organically communicating,
communing beings
health becoming
True purposive effects
and Beautiful
meaning full yet soundlessly nonverbal
causes felt
as sacred needed
and positively wanted
co-passionate
co-operative
communicating
green EarthMother communion.
Y!...P!M! : asked the sentry at the door of waking
--------------------------------------------------------
yup...past midday!
(yawning...pondering...mmmmm)
yammered past
midnight
yacking propels me
yards...plows
mental
yesteryears pathways...mountainous
yes...puzzling
maybe
yet productivity means
yachting problems
minimizing
yawls...pacifying memories
yearning...premeditations
materialized
years previous...managable
yen-pen
moment
yang potential mediums
yielding...perpetual
music...
yelling pesters me
She feels your eyes on her like she's a criminal
And the feeling is not deemed subliminal
Manipulate others to see it your way
Minimizing her just makes your whole day
What are you thinking that she would steal from you
In possessions and home, she has as much as you do
The difference being she got her's all alone
You relied on others to help pay for your home
Following her like she's a snake that will bite
As if she has enough venom to strike
Dismissing her as if a servant isn’t right
Putting her out like the trash every night
Holding against her things from the past
A couple of times when she strayed from the path
Teenagers make mistakes the same as you do
Why do you treat her as if she were still two
Criticize her to friends and family
One day you will turn and there no one will be
She has about had it with your dictatorship
Magnify things in your mind ain’t legit
Raised her kids had trials in their teenage years
If she held it against them she’d hear nothing but jeers
Looking for scorpions in your snake pit
Look around closely she's not that viper that spits
Sorry that she has always been your side thorn
You broke her and now the relationship is torn
Don’t you realize yet that she is the only one left
By not mentioning you deny that she even exist
You brag about the children she has born
Yet she is the one you act like sprang from the corn
One day you’ll wake up and soon you’ll realize
Her Teenage mistakes are the reason they thrive
Without those mistakes, you would be all alone
Who is the only one who stuck close to home
Take a good look she's a woman full grown
Think about that when you toss up your bones